Blurry Connections
by KoolJack1
Summary: Spencer Reid/Nathan Harris. Dark themes, slash; you've been warned.


He's not really sure why his hands are trembling and sticky, yet he finds himself having to repeatedly rub his hands against his jean clad knee to dry them. He squints over at the clock on the wall, 8:45. Why is he sitting here, in this dimly lit coffee shop?

Nervous eyes shoot towards the door as it opens quickly, and there he is. He's not sure how he was expecting him to look, but he looks exactly the same. Pale, skinny, tall, _haunted_. Spencer swallows roughly as the hollow eyes meet his, the thin lips twisting into a painful smile.

"Dr. Reid, thank you for meeting me here," Nathan says, ever polite. The younger man takes a seat across from him, and Reid finds himself staring at his coffee cup.

"Spencer- You don't have to call me Dr. Reid," is the best he can say. He knows he should say something else, anything else, but he can't remember how to talk all of a sudden. As if his lungs forgot how to hold air, he's almost gasping for breath.

Nathan just stares at him silently, curious eyes examining the older man. Spencer breaks out in a cold sweat, and he suddenly can't remember the last time he had a fix. Was it this morning? Yesterday? His body starts to ache, and all at once he regrets agreeing to meet the young man here.

Nathan had sent a few letters to the B.A.U. after he'd been hospitalized, and though Spencer had read them, he hadn't answered. They continued coming, for almost seven months, each one saying the same sorts of things as the one before it. Until the last one, that is, when he'd informed him that he was turning eighteen in a week and that he'd be granted freedom. The letter that asked him to call him next Saturday, when he'd be able to go home.

Spencer remembered the phone conversation clearly-

_He sat on his couch, the room completely dark, aside from the gentle glow of one of the nightlights he kept plugged into an outlet in every room. He couldn't sit still as the phone rang, the seconds of silence between each ring suffocating him. It seemed like an eternity before the other line clicked to life, but Spencer felt like he hadn't had enough time to prepare._

_"Hello?" The tired yet familiar voice said._

_Spencer swallowed thickly, clearing his throat. "Hi, Nathan. It's, uh, Spencer Reid."_

_The other side was silent for a moment, and Spencer almost considered hanging up. "I didn't think you were going to call. You didn't answer any of my letters," Nathan stated, not calling him out; yet feeling the need to explain._

_"I know, and I'm sorry. I read them all, though. I just can't get past everything that happened when I met you, and I've been going through the hard times too. I wasn't in the right place to answer, I didn't know what to say." He imagined himself telling Nathan about how he craved something that put him in the right place, where he needed to be. He imagined Nathan being what he never had._

_"I understand, I hope you didn't mind me writing. I just didn't want you to forget me," Nathan said honestly, his voice sounding more like it did when they had first met._

_Spencer shut his eyes and sank a little further down on the couch, "I didn't mind, and I'll never forget you, Nathan." His voice was a mere whisper, and he wasn't sure if the boy could hear him._

_"Would you meet me somewhere tonight? I want to see you," Nathan said randomly, yet Spencer had a feeling that was the intent all along. He considered- had been considering- this. Could he face the boy after he'd felt his blood run through his fingers?_

_"Where?" he heard his mouth ask without his brain's permission, and he heard Nathan's breath catch._

_"Um, there's a coffee shop close to my house I can meet you at," he gave him the address, and Spencer's brain finally caught up with him._

_"Is your mother okay with you seeing me?" he asked, warily. He knew Nathan wouldn't lie to him though._

_"Yeah, she said it was okay. She usually goes out at night anyway."_

_Spencer tucked that information away to consider later- it stuck him as odd that a mother would leave her son, who had just been released from a mental hospital, home alone overnight. _

_"So is 8:30 okay?" The hopeful voice asked._

_"Yeah, I'll be there."_

"I'm sorry I'm late," Nathan said, "I was catching up on some homework."

Spencer nodded, taking a sip of cooling coffee.

"It's okay, did you want a coffee or anything?" he asked, attempting to break the awkwardness that had settled over them.

"No thank you."

The silence carried on again, and Spencer, desperate for something to say, blurted out the only thing he was comfortable with- "What homework were you working on?" That broke the ice, and the conversation flowed between them from there. Nathan talked about how he had to catch up on all the work to graduate, and Spencer offered to help him if he needed. Then came books, since that was basically all Nathan had to do while he was away. Reid wasn't surprised that they had similar tastes, and it made talking that much more easy.

Reid wasn't sure where the time went, but the girl behind the counter kindly informed them that it was 10:00pm and closing time. Gathering their things, the two men left the store in silence. Nathan cleared his throat, "Thanks for coming here tonight."

Spencer nodded mutely, then added, "I'll walk you home, I took the subway here anyway."

The short walk to Nathan's house was comfortable, yet the only words spoken were those in small talk about how nice of a night it was. Nathan's hand brushed Spencer's, and a jolt shot up his arm. Quickly, he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, grateful that they were on his street.

"Your mother isn't here?" Spencer asked when he noticed the absence of a car in the driveway.

"I told you she usually isn't home at nights, I got home a few days ago and she's been leaving," he said, brushing it off.

"Do you want me to stay for a little while, then?" He tried to convince himself it was for Nathan's safety, he really did, but the way his chest tightened when Nathan grinned told him otherwise.

"Sure, you can help me with that homework," Nathan replied, a little too enthusiastically.

Spencer followed him up to the front door, despite the way his gut was twisting. He even followed him up the stairs to his bedroom, his heart rate rising two notches when Nathan shut the door behind them.

"I never had anyone in my room," the younger man said, his voice sounding almost pleased to finally have changed that. "Sit," he instructed, pointing to the bed.

Obediently, Spencer did, his eyes focused on the carpet. He was worried when he heard Nathan moving around by his desk, until he handed him a notebook.

"Social Studies, but I don't want to read the whole chapter; it's boring," he said, answering Spencer's silent question.

Reid's shoulders relaxed, education was his comfort zone. He flipped to the last page with writing, skimming over the notes and questions; and fell into a long ramble about World War II. He knew he was talking way to fast, but he couldn't slow down; the words spilling from his mouth before he could really think about them.

Nathan sat down- very close- to him, and Spencer heard himself speed up even more.

After a whole five minutes of talking, his lungs screamed for air and he gasped. Nathan took that as a chance to talk, and he stuck his arm out, "Look."

His left arm was covered in angry red gashes, some more healed than others. Spencer's stomach turned and he quickly tried to stand up, but Nathan grabbed his arm. "You never did this to yourself?" Nathan asked skeptically

"I've done a lot of things like that to myself, but it's never the answer," he avoided carefully, "It doesn't take pain away, it just masks it," he went on to explain quietly, trying again to stand up; only to find the grip on his arm tighten to the point where it hurt. He shouldn't have agreed to any of this.

"You still do it, though," Nathan commented, and Spencer's eyes darted up to meet his.

He knew, damn it. Not that he should be surprised, Nathan was one of the smartest, most observant teenagers he'd ever met.

"I do it so I can watch myself bleed; I love blood."

The words sent a shiver down Spencer's spine, and a cold weight settled in the pit of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut when dry, chapped lips pressed roughly against his. The kiss wasn't slow or gentle, but rough and demanding; their teeth knocking against one another. It was inexperienced, not that Spencer had much experience either, but he wasn't in control. He pulled his face away when it registered that this was wrong, but the eager mouth attacked his neck. He gasped, shuddering when a set of teeth buried themselves in the side of his neck.

"I've never done this before," Nathan whispered against his ear as he bit down again.

Spencer's whole body jerked in surprise when Nathan rose to straddle his lap, his hard on pushing against Spencer's gasping belly. How could things have changed so quickly? Spencer's mind spun as he tried to keep up.

Nathan shoved him to lie back, rising up so Spencer could scoot back, only to dig his fingers into the flesh of his arms. The younger boy leaned down again, harshly biting the abused skin on his neck. Something in Spencer wanted this, badly. He'd never had sex- voluntarily- before. Not that he was agreeing to this, he couldn't agree to this; yet every time he tried to protest, Nathan held him tighter. He felt himself responding to the intensity of the situation, and he blushed. Nathan felt it too, because he leaned back to look into his eyes for a moment.

Nathan snapped then, and everything moved forward quickly. A knee forced his trembling legs apart, only to have Nathan's narrow hips settle in their place. His button down shirt became a casualty when Nathan hastily pulled the front apart- the buttons giving away with quiet snaps. His body arched when a warm, wet mouth devoured his chest. Lower halves grinding together, Nathan bit down on Spencer's right nipple. He never imagined himself crying out like that- in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Spencer's hands came up and latched onto Nathan's hips in what was supposed to be an attempt to push him off, but turned into him pulling him down harder.

Nathan stopped suddenly, sitting up to remove his shirt. That was his chance to fight back and leave, and he couldn't understand why all he did was stare while Nathan removed his pants and moved down to remove his too. He couldn't control his hips when they rose off the bed to assist in removing his last article of clothing, and he couldn't stop the moan when Nathan laid on top of him again. Their naked cocks brushed each other, and Nathan groaned, his hands slowly crawling up Spencer's body. Eyes closed, mouth hanging open, Spencer could only imagine what he must look like right now. Nathan's forearm quickly moved to his neck, pushing down; restricting Spencer's airways.

His eyes flew open out of panic, his lungs burning in need of air. Nathan's other hand stroked his hair soothingly, "I won't hurt you, but it feels good. Just feel," he instructed, but Reid's hands clawed at Nathan's wrist anyway. The hand in his hair disappeared, only to take hold of his aching need. Spencer let out a strangled, muffled cry and Nathan's hand moved quickly against him.

He couldn't deny that it did feel good, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The intensity became too much, and he felt his lower belly erupt when the building pressure reached its peak. Thankfully, Nathan removed his arm just as his whole body convulsed and tightened; warm sticky liquid covering both of their stomachs. It must have been enough for Nathan, because Spencer realized it wasn't only him that was shuttering.

The world shattered and froze then, when sharp pain erupted in his abdomen. The knife went in much easier then he imagined in would, and it hurt a lot more then he'd dreamed. Nathan pushed and pulled the knife in and out, his eyes empty, "I'm sorry."

Spencer woke up to screaming, only to realize it was him screaming. Gasping, he looked around and identified his bedroom, the digital clock telling him it was three o'clock in the morning. What scared him the most was his erection that was standing tall against his boxers. With a choked sob his hand slithered down his body. He very rarely pleasured himself, but he knew if he didn't he'd shoot up; so he wrapped his fingers around his cock tightly. It took less than two minutes to finish, and he quickly discarded his boxers; not bothering to put on new ones. Ashamed, he rolled into a ball; the shaking more intense then it was before he fell asleep. Everything hurt, and he knew it was just the beginning of the detox. He shuddered, muscles tightening as a cramp squeezed his belly. He saw Nathan's face behind his eye lids, remembering his request to call him Saturday. Out of fear, he wouldn't, but he decided he was going to write back. His thoughts were broken by bile rising up in his throat and he fell off the bed and scrambled to the bathroom just in time.

_Life is such a bitch_, he thought; smiling ironically to himself as he spit into the toilet.


End file.
